


Drip Drop

by stuckyofficial



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Is a Good Bro, Gen, recovering bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4221414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckyofficial/pseuds/stuckyofficial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small study about how I think the team would react to Bucky being around when hes still lost. It kinda turned into bonding time with Clint but I figured he might be able to sympathize a little because of the whole Loki arc from the first Avengers movie. Nat would be able to also but Clint is the dummy always getting hurt so..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drip Drop

It's raining today, it's grey outside and there are wispy clouds of fog weaving their way through the crowded skyline. There are fat raindrops clinging to the outside of the window pane, and only some slip down and drip away to no doubt land on someone's umbrella or other method of protection against the onslaught of water. Bucky realizes he's sitting too close to the window when he goes cross eyed to focus on a raindrop running down the glass. He doesn't move though, he only re-focuses to staring out at the traffic he could see from this level of the Stark tower and blinks a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. It's quiet in the tower, considering there is nobody here besides himself and the Hawkeye. Or Clint. He isn't sure if he is allowed to address the man by his real name. Bucky assumes not, he is not allowed to address anyone unless he is spoken to first. Conditioning, is what Steve had told him it was. Behavior modification. It didn't make sense, but he had nodded and went along anyways. 

He's surprised they had left him alone in the tower with one of their own, these “Avengers” that Steve has gotten himself mixed up in. He doesn't know any of them aside from the woman, and even then he does not know her or her real name. Just the Black Widow. This isn't to say that he disapproves of them, no, he's seen the comradery between them all a few times now (if only through the TV screen on the news). But that had been enough. Bucky wouldn't admit that he was perhaps a bit jealous. 

Maybe he should go check on Clint. 

No. 

Bucky huffs a sigh and watches quietly as the breath fogs the glass, and then fades away. For a while, he slips back into his idle thoughts, before he hears socked feet padding down the hallway. He tenses, drawing his shoulders in towards his body and wringing his hands together until the presence he's detected is hovering over his head. There's a strained moment before Clint speaks.  
“Hey, man. Can I sit wit’cha?” His voice is quiet, but retains the usual pep Bucky has assigned to him, despite being layed up with a wounded hand while everyone else was out probably kicking ass. Bucky's been grateful that the people in this tower have been kind to him, they have tried helping in him in all their own ways; Clint’s was silent companionship, Tony rambled to him about things he didn't care about, Steve told him stories and memories, the Widow had taken it upon herself to make sure he kept himself fed and clean, sometimes when there was no one else around Bruce would read aloud or teach him meditation techniques, Thor would spar with him because he didn't have the heart to hurt the other person able to keep up with him. He almost forgets that Clint had asked to sit with him, and Bucky looks up to him with a slight nod.  
“Ok, neat. Thanks Sarge.”  
“Don't call me that.” Bucky snaps, looking anywhere but at Clint when he perches in some odd position on the back of the couch. He doesn't want to speak long enough to explain why ‘Sarge’ is a very disrespectful term, but it is. Bucky isn't some lazy good for nothing commanding officer.  
“Okay, sorry. Huh, what should I call you then, bud?”  
Bucky merely shrugs at the question, “I don't know.” He sure says that a lot these days. He's not supposed to have a name, the Asset is the closest thing to a name he's ever been allowed to have. Having a name gives you worth. The people in the tower call him Bucky, but that isn't his name. It's just a borrowed title.  
God, he wants a name.  
“Well, I’m going to call you Bud. Not buddy.” Clint declares, letting himself fall with his back against the seat of the couch and his legs up in the air, arms bracing himself on the floor. This man sure likes uncomfortable looking poses to rest in, Bucky thinks. 

He supposes he can live with that, even though it's more of a nickname. Maybe he even smiled a little about it. Maybe.


End file.
